


Baking the World a Better Place

by Anonymous



Series: Housewife Bucky [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Aprons, Baking, Crossdressing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Feminization, Fluff and Smut, Gender Roles, House Cleaning, Housewife Bucky Barnes, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Period Typical Attitudes, Protective Steve Rogers, Stress Baking, Yes you read that right, meaning 1930s attitudes, updates every Friday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-28 21:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17190464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Steve and Bucky moved out to the lovely suburb of Jericho, NY to help Bucky heal. Unable to work outside their home, Bucky is slowly but surely going stir-crazy, which culminates in a surprising bout of stress baking.OR the author has a strange need for a "housewife Bucky" fic and decided to try it herself :)





	1. Strawberry Cupcakes

It all began with a birthday present. Tony’s birthday present to be exact.  
Being richer than God, there was nothing anyone could buy for him that he couldn’t just get for himself. Which was why Steve and Bucky ended up buying him a dozen strawberry and black and white cupcakes in an effort to bring something. (Expensive cake was always good, right?)

„$42 Steve! For twelve muffins!“  
Steve groaned. „We can afford it, Buck.“  
„Still robbery.“ Bucky gave the pink box on his lap a glum look. „We could have bought a year’s worth of groceries for that before the war!“  
That prompted a grin „Yeah, and gas was 10 cents a gallon. No chance of that happening either any time soon.“   
Steve pulled into his parking spot in Stark Tower’s garage. „Now stop looking like you’re about to smash those cakes and try to have fun at the party.“

Try. Ha.  
Bucky wanted to be back in their house already. It was calm, spacious and surrounded by nice-but-distant neighbors. Just big enough for his pacing and small enough to not feel overwhelmed with all the room. Just enough people around to make it a residential area but few enough to keep him from getting jumpy.  
It was perfect.  
Like Steve, who had held him through one panic attack in their apartment in Stark Tower and scheduled appointments with real estate agents the next day.   
Bucky had tried, he really had, but New York City was more than he could handle. At least at the moment.  
And Steve had been there, ready to turn his back on Brooklyn and everything he knew just for him.  
  
They had been living in their three-bedroom house for half a year now, while he tried to get better. He had been very successful so far, according to his therapist and Sam, though his own assessment looked decidedly more glum.  
He remembered more of his past, panic attacks were very rare these days too, still… he felt off.  
He felt… _lost_.

He couldn’t hold down a job, because who would hire the Winter Soldier?   
(And most work environments put him on edge, but the first reason was easier to accept than the second. There were too many people, too many telephones, too much of everything.)  
He couldn’t do anything besides being driven to therapy three times a week, going to appointments with his neurologist twice a month and lurking around the house. Sometimes Natasha, Tony, Clint or Sam would show up to „just drop by“ and keep him from going crazy from boredom but that was it.  
He had no purpose anymore.  
No war to fight, no job to go to keep the roof over his and Stevie’s head, nothing.  
Just getting better.  
 _But, for what?_

The only things he looked forward to these days were all Steve related: sparring with Steve, having dinner with Steve, falling in bed with Steve and waking up with Steve on the thin mat on the floor they both pretended didn’t exist, when the bed was just too soft again.  
Steve was everything and Bucky was slowly but surely freaking out about not being worth all that love and effort.  
Something had to give and soon.

 

* * *

 

Tony’s birthday party had been hell for Bucky.   
Too much noise, too many people and too much alcohol that did nothing for him.  
He still was grateful for being invited though. He treasured the weird beginnings of a friendship he had cultivated with Tony, despite his past.

As much as he appreciated the gesture, the aftermath of that long night left him restless and antsy the next day.   
His attempts to calm himself with his Yoga routine were unsuccessful and Steve’s attempt to simply fuck the nerves out of him only worked for about half an hour, until he was out of the door.  
Staring off into the distance while trying to regulate his heart-beat was just as helpful as his pacing… it was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.  
If anything, trying to use the techniques he had used as a sniper was putting him more on edge. He never wanted to go back again. He had killed enough people. He had-

**He needed something to do.**

Which somehow reminded him of the ridiculously overpriced cakes they bought the day before. Why were they so expensive?  
As desperate as he was, Bucky allowed himself to get hung up on the damn muffins. Cupcakes. Whatever.  
They were small cakes, and they should not cost $42, damn it!  
  
Determined to be proven right, he went on a mad hunt for a strawberry cupcake recipe to pick apart.   
Of course, the Stark Tablet immediately found about 33.000 of them.

Half an hour of reading recipes left Bucky horribly confused.   
Just how difficult were these things to make? Was there some kind of special skill needed?  
What exactly were they paying so much for?

A look into their pantry sealed the deal for him- he was going to try this. He was going to bake the evil little cakes and if his turned out just as perfect as the ones in the store, he’d never buy anything from that bakery ever again. _Usurers._

 

* * *

 

Suck it, bakery. Bucky was totally acing this.  
His Graham cracker crust (expertly beaten to crumbs by yours truly) was perfect and his cupcake batter was rising beautifully in the oven.   
Thanks to the recipe he now knew to check with a toothpick to make sure it was cooked the whole way through. He was learning things.  
Look at him, Bucky Barnes, sniper, assassin and decent baker. _Ha._

A few minutes later and the oven timer beeped.   
Time to check if everything was cooked. Bucky carefully opened the oven door and poked each of the little cakes with the toothpick.  
A hint of a smug smile made it to his lips: he was so acing this!

His metal arm proved to be useful too, their lack of oven gloves didn’t matter. Finally, his arm was useful for something again.

The frosting required a bit of resourcefulness on his part, as they had no icing sugar.   
But as it turned out, a quick Google search, a cup of sugar, a spoon full of corn starch and a blender were all he needed.   
No need to buy special icing sugar, apparently.

Bucky felt decidedly smug after spreading his frosting over the top of his cupcakes.   
Sure, he had no piping-thing to make it look good but these things were made to be eaten anyway. No need for over the top presentation here.  
Lastly, he chopped up a few fresh strawberries and sprinkled them on top of the frosting. Perfect.

Ha. Bucky Barnes had made cupcakes.  
They could have saved a good $30 the day before. Damn it.

 

* * *

 

Okay, $28 if he counted the water for cleaning up the kitchen and the electricity. Still, $28 was money.

Call him a tightwad but growing up during the Depression had taught him to value every cent. Luckily, Steve understood. He knew.  
  
They still kept a little book with all their expenses, although they technically had enough money to not keep that much of a close look at their spending.   
Being frugal was ingrained into both of them, however.  
You didn’t grow up watching every penny and later working day and night to just keep a roof over your head to ever not watch your expenses.

Seeing how much money they could have saved on those cupcakes made Bucky wonder how much more they could save if he did more around the house.  
  
Steve was out all day working but he was at home. If he just sat down and cooked their dinner instead of letting Steve bring something home every night, they could save nearly $200 a week.  
He still wouldn’t be making money, but at least he’d be doing something to make the most of Steve’s paycheck. (And their army back-pay, which they resolutely ignored.)  
He’d have something to do, at least for a few hours a week. Bucky snorted, his therapist would be proud too. _Look at him, trying new things!_

Perhaps he could take up cleaning too. They usually picked up and cleaned together in the evenings, when Steve was back from work but… just having those evenings to relax together would be nice.

 

* * *

 

_‚Do_ n’t _pick up take-out. I’m cooking tonight. Text me when you leave the office.‘_  
  
Bucky eyed his text for a few seconds. God, he sounded like a nagging housewife.  
Fuck it.

It took Steve about three minutes to text back, as Bucky’s inner clock informed him.  
  
 _‚Sure. Are you okay?‘_

Fucking Steve.

_‚Yes‘_

Now, what would they have for dinner tonight?

 

* * *

 

It had taken surprisingly little to find a recipe for Hoover Stew online.   
Apparently people today enjoyed Depression cooking. Go figure.

Trying a recipe they both knew from their childhood seemed comforting, for some reason. If he did it right, they’d get to remember their family dinners together, if he didn’t it would still be better than the shit they had eaten while living together before the War.

He had a pantry full of cans at his disposal, thanks to their never talked about fear of not having enough… he could probably make enough Stew for twenty people.  
Macaroni, hot dogs, canned tomatoes, mushrooms and peas were all he needed.   
Boil the macaroni, drop them shortly before they were done, brown the hotdogs, add the cans and put the macaroni back in. Easy.  
They would have spent at least §30 on dinner tonight. _Ugh._

  
His Ma would have slapped him up the head if she was here to hear it.

 

* * *

 

„Bucky?“

Seeing Steve’s confused yet hopeful face was worth every minute he had spent wrangling their space-age stove.   
Who the hell needed a touch-screen on a stove top? Not him.

Honestly, Steve had every right to be confused.  
For the last few months, he had found Bucky on the couch, wrapped in a blanket or reading when he returned home. Sometimes Bucky would jump him at the door but Steve had never come home to a set table, dinner and this particular smug/exasperated look.

„$28 Steve! We could have saved 28 fucking dollars on these damn cakes!“  
„W“-  
„I tried making them today and I aced it, Stevie! I could have brought home-made cupcakes!“  
„You did what?“ Confusion was clearly winning out now.

„I baked cupcakes, you jerk.“ Bucky slowed down his speech. He might be slightly hyper due to the actually productive stuff he had done today but that didn’t mean that his man could get away with not listening to him.

„You baked cupcakes.“ _Yes_ , Steve. You got it.  
„And I cooked dinner. And it cost us around $6, electricity and water included. We could have saved so much money, Steve!“

Okay, exactly how hyper did he look?  
Steve was approaching him with deliberately slow movements. „That’s great, Buck. But - are you okay?“

„ _YES!_ “

The doubtful look he got combined with the slightly hysterical tone he heard in his own voice made him hesitate.  
Was he okay?

Suddenly, his earlier desperation rose up again.  
„No. No, I’m not Stevie.“ He was gently ushered towards the couch, pushed down and cradled in Steve’s warm arms.  
„I need something to do. I’m going crazy with no work to do. I just… I’m like a god damn spoiled housewife sitting around all day. And I don’t even shop. I do jack-shit. I can’t“-  
His voice cracked and the arms around him tightened.

„You are recovering, Bucky. That’s not jack-shit.“  
Fucking Steve. He wanted to make a blanket out of that understanding voice and wrap it around himself whenever the doubt crept in.  
He let out a bone-deep sigh. „I know. Everybody tells me that. But I just feel useless sitting around all day.“

„You’re doing Yoga.“  
Bucky snorted. „Half an hour a day. I need more.“

For a minute, they just sat there in silence. „So, you wanna cook dinner every night?“  
Bucky would have laughed at the carefully implied ‚I’m not asking you to but you can if you want to‘ in the tone of his voice if it didn’t make that happy swell of love well up in his belly.  
„Yeah. Kind of.“ He pressed his face into the nook of Steve's neck. „I might screw up a few times. Think you can bail us out with take-out then?“  
„Sure“, a warm hand combed through his hair, „Though you’d have to burn down the kitchen to actually make it taste worse than the shit we at back then.“

They basked in each other warmth for a few minutes more, until the kitchen timer went off.   
The Hoover Stew was done.  
  
Hiding away against Steve’s chest was the best way to ward of nightmares and bad memories in Bucky’s opinion.   
  
Since they had found each other again, Steve had proven time and time again just how much he was capable of taking care of him now.  
Steve didn’t need him to be strong anymore.   
Steve was plenty strong on his own, but was somehow convinced that a world without Bucky was not worth it, no matter how difficult he made their lives.  
He could sit back and let Steve take care of him now.  
The thought was the most calming thing on earth and, at the same time, scared the crap out of him.  
It was hard to let go and let himself be taken care of.  
But he had to. And Steve didn’t let him get away with not being taken care of anyway.

After feeling utterly useless for the last few weeks being able to provide dinner was a thrill.   
He did that and Steve was thoroughly enjoying it. He was too, to be honest.   
The Stew turned out alright, richer than it ever was in their childhood due to added parmesan but still painfully nostalgic.  
Steve ended up holding his hand over the dinner table for a long time, before clearing away their plates and putting left-overs away in some Tupperware.   
The big oaf was actually moved by the gesture. His measly cooking made Steve happy.

 

* * *

 

The happiness about the Stew was nothing compared to their combined appreciation of the cupcakes. Bucky was so doing this again!

_Suck it,_ bakery _!_


	2. Yeast Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone.  
> Thank you so much for all the encouragement, it's really appreciated.  
> Second update on this Friday for me, as I want to make sure you guys know what you're getting into ;)
> 
> About this chapter:  
> I put the tag for 'Period Typical Attitudes' in for a reason. Bucky and Steve do their very best to be appropriate in 2018 but between the two of them, they allow themselves to indulge in some attitudes/talk that would be considered rather sexist and objectifying today.  
> I just wanted to warn for that again, before anyone starts to worry about their attitudes. 
> 
> They keep it between themselves and I doubt you'd ever see either of them disrespecting a woman in their universe :)

Bucky woke up to a kiss, pressed to the back of his neck and Steve sneaking off of their mat to go for his morning run. 

He could hear him put on his running clothes and tip-toe out of the bedroom. Steve expected him to fall back asleep, like he always did. 

The thing was, he didn’t want to. He was still riding his high from doing something useful the night before and he was dead-set to continue his streak of productiveness. 

And he would start out by getting dressed and getting breakfast started for the both of them. He craved the rush of seeing Steve happy again.  
His best guy needed to be taken care of too and he’d be damned if he didn’t do just that in any way he could.

 

A few minutes later, he was down in the kitchen, starting up their coffee machine. It had taken him some time to actually like drinking coffee again after Hydra.  
If he had gotten coffee at all, it had been black and usually cold. He had grown to dislike coffee over time, until he had tried it with sugar and cream for the first time. 

Ever since then, he hadn’t gone without his morning coffee again. Two spoons of sugar and a shot of cream and he was in heaven.  
Steve still took his coffee as always, with just a hint of milk. 

 

Looking around the kitchen, Bucky decided to set up their breakfast on the kitchen island instead of the dining table. He poured two glasses of orange juice and decided on egg-salad sandwiches for the both of them. 

Deep-down he was itching to go for the Bisquick pancake mix in the back of their pantry but he didn’t want to spook Steve too much. On the weekend maybe.

 

A nervous little smile flit over his lips: _he was thinking of the future_. One more reason to be proud of himself this morning.

It would have been easy to ignore this little hint of progress but if his therapist and Sam had beaten one thing into him, it was to appreciate and actively notice any kind of progress he made.

He itched to tell Steve about it.  
He’d needed to enlist his help quite heavily at the beginning, telling him about the smallest things he noticed and being praised while he was still unable to do it himself. 

 

Steve was great at praising him. The way his eyes lit up the moment Bucky would reluctantly tell him about a success (‚I put the salve on my scaring today, Steve‘) and his handsome face would just shine with honest joy always made him feel giddy with happiness. Being wrapped in those thick, strong arms and crushed to his chest in unabashed excitement was the best feeling in the world. Only trumped by hearing „I’m so proud of you, baby/darling/honey.“ close to his ear. 

 

They had fallen out of the habit of using pet names since they reunited. It hadn’t been a conscious decision… Bucky had just never dared to talk to Steve like that again.  
He didn’t feel like he had the right to call Captain America his darling, not after everything he had done.

And Steve, bless him, had picked up on his non-use of pet names and respected it. 

Luckily for him, he had never asked him why he didn’t use them anymore, he doubted that the reason would go over well with Steve.

 

He still craved hearing them though, as selfish as it was when he couldn’t reciprocate. 

Reciprocation was a big thing in his life in general. He didn’t want anything he couldn’t reciprocate. 

He never wanted to take anything that wasn’t his to take ever again.

 

The gurgle of the coffee machine pulled him out of his thoughts. Steve should be back home within ten minutes. Then he’d go have his shower and come back down to make breakfast. 

The tentative smile was back on Bucky’s face; not today. No, today he would come down and sit down to enjoy hot coffee and breakfast with Bucky instead of rousing him from sleep with a kiss and rushing to get out of the door on time. 

 

Immediately, he had to clamp down on his guilty conscious: Stevie wasn’t mad at him for not doing anything productive these last six months besides healing. No one was, aside from Bucky himself. Well… he wasn’t mad exactly. Ashamed was more like it. 

A man had to provide and pull his weight or he was a burden and he had been nothing but a burden-

 

No.

He was not doing this. 

 

He had made such progress last night and this morning. He wasn’t going to ruin this for himself.

Absolutely not.

 

Resolutely, he got up and stalked up the stairs to make their beds. He could do better things with his life than berate himself for shit he couldn’t change.

 

* * *

 

 

„Bucky?“ Bucky actually had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.  
Steve sounded just as confused as the night before.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen and froze in the doorway. „Good morning.“ It sounded more like a question. 

Okay, Bucky was loving this.  
Ignoring his own giddiness, he poured their coffee and added milk, cream and sugar according to preference. Then he sat the cups down close to the plates on the kitchen island. 

 

„Good morning, Stevie.“ 

He flushed at the pure delight spreading over the man’s face. „You’re feeling a lot better today, aren’t you?“

„Yeah.“ The shy smile he could feel on his lips made him flush even more. Goddammit. 

„I… I made progress today.“

„Yeah?“ The joy was outright pouring out of Steve by now. How did he deserve this man?

„Wanna tell me about it, Buck?“

He nodded. „When I woke up this morning, I made plans. I wanted to make breakfast. I already made the beds and I wanna make dinner tonight. And I’d like to make pancakes on the weekend.“

The usual shivery uncertainty was simmering in his belly again. But „I don’t feel so scared of telling you about progress anymore.“ 

It was true. He had been so scared at the beginning, scared to hear that these little things were worth nothing at all and that he wasn’t getting better.

 

Steve crossed the kitchen in a few long strides and wrapped him in his arms. „I saw that you made the beds, Buck.“ A hand moved from his shoulder and cradled his face. These gorgeous blue eyes were shining down at him. „You did so well. And I love hearing that you are making plans now, baby. Dinner and dessert last night were incredible.“

Baby. Fuck. 

„You blush prettier than the prettiest dame, darling.“ Darling. Oh God. 

„Not pretty.“ And he sounded slightly disgruntled at best, breathy at worst. 

A hint of steel appeared in the back of Steve’s eyes. „You are. You are so fucking pretty, d“-

 

Bucky’s breath hitched. Steve noticed that he wasn’t reciprocating and decided to stop. Of course, he would.

 

„Sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.“ The regret on the handsome face actually hurt him. Wait-

„Uncomfortable?“ 

„You don’t like pet-names anymore, right?“ Shit, Steve sounded downright crushed. „I didn’t want to ruin this moment, b- Bucky. I am just so proud of you and  I can’t always keep it in.“

„I“, how was he supposed to explain this? He didn’t mind being called any of those things, dammit.

„I like pet names.“ A confused crease appeared between Steve's eyebrows at that. „I just… I can’t say them back. Not yet. And I… I don’t want you to feel like you’re not getting things back from me.“ Yeah, that was probably the best way to put it right now.

 

The crease deepened. „You worry that I’ll be mad that you can’t give me pet names yet?“

„Sad.“ No, he wouldn’t be mad. Not his Stevie, never. „I don’t want you to feel like… neglected.“ Not loved enough.

 

Bucky was stunned when he started laughing. A belly shaking, chest-grabbing laugh. Somehow this was funny now.

„I would - Oh God! I wouldn’t feel neglected, baby.“ Suddenly, he was wrapped in Steve’s arms again „How could I? You wouldn’t blush so pretty for me, if you didn’t feel like that about me, huh, Buck?“

Well. „I love you, Stevie. You know that.“

 

„I do. And as long as you can tell me that from time to time, I’m perfectly happy.“ 

 

He could totally do that. „I love you so much.“ 

That got him a chuckle „Smooth talker. I love you too.“ 

Bucky gave a rueful smile. He had been smooth talker. Now only Steve seemed to think so.

 

„So, I’m pretty?“ He tried to ignore the slight uptick in his heart-beat. He had never been that. Handsome, charming, yes, but never pretty. Only to Steve.

„You are. The prettiest I’ve ever met.“ A short, hot kiss was pressed to his lips. „But if we keep talking about that, baby, I’m going to bend you over that kitchen island and be late for work.“ 

A big hand came down and gave his ass a light squeeze. Oh.

 

Then Steve’s warm bulk was gone and Bucky was left standing in the middle of the kitchen while he took the first sip of his coffee. 

He got a heated smile „Perfect. Don’t wanna have breakfast, doll?“ 

 

Steve was absolutely determined to keep that flush on his face it seemed.

 

* * *

 

 

Two hours later Bucky had done Yoga, the dishes and had had his shower. 

The blush still hadn’t really left his face, though. 

 

He had never felt so - 

 

He didn’t even have a word for it. 

Being called all these pet names, being called pretty, that he’d find himself bent over the next flat surface if he kept teasing made him feel… kind of appreciated. 

He was allowed to be these things; to be pretty, not handsome or charming, to love being bent over by his man and he was praised for it. Got called all these tender words for allowing himself to give into that tiny bit of him that just wanted to please Steve and be soft and yielding and good. 

 

He had only ever allowed himself glimpses at that part of himself. 

When he took care of sick, little Stevie, trying to do everything in his power to make him smile again;

on the battle field, when he took out anyone trying to get to his Captain, just to be held close at night and hear how good he was at taking care of him. 

When he hid out in Bucharest, working so hard to remember everything he could, just so he could allow himself to see the man who wanted to be with him ‚till the end of the line‘ again. 

There was something about Steve, about how hard he always tried to make things right, that made him want to be good, please him. Steve Rogers was made to lead people and no one knew it like Bucky. 

To him, Steve was everything a man should be, had always been. No matter how frail his body used to be, Steve had always been a bigger man than anyone he knew. Including him.

 

* * *

 

 

Bread should be easy to make. His Ma had baked a loaf a week and it had never taken her long. And her bread had always been so much better than the Wonder Bread they could buy at the store. 

Her olive bread had been the best thing he’d eat all week and he’d always sneak a few slices for Stevie. He needed some damn meat on his bones back then.

 

The truth was, Bucky kept thinking about things he had no business to think about and he needed to distract himself fast. So olive bread it was.

 

Thanks to their well-stocked pantry, he actually had everything he needed within reach and could get started on dissolving the yeast immediately. The dough should be able to rest for four hours at least, according to the recipe. 

He remembered his mother preparing the dough on Saturday evening and leaving it to rest over night so they had fresh bread on Sunday. 

But four hours should be enough. 

 

He added the spices to the dissolved yeast and then started kneading in the flour. Thorough kneading was important. The more warmth and air he got into the dough, the better. 

After working it for two minutes, he added his chopped up olives and put it in a big bowl to rest. 

 

Then, he sat down for a mid-morning snack. 

Overworking himself wouldn’t do him any good, he had learned that the hard way.

Yes, he could still infiltrate a Hydra base if he had to but it took so much out of him. And he finally didn’t have to chip away at himself like that anymore.

So orange juice and a cupcake it was. 

 

* * *

 

As dinner time rolled around, Bucky was really fucking pleased. 

He’d put together a bean, bacon and tomato bake and sliced a quarter of his loaf of olive bread for dinner. Still acing this. 

The table was set and food was ready for the exact moment Steve came through the door. 

Not to mention the two loads of laundry he had done and put away or the freshly mopped first floor and living room. 

Now that he finally could have them again, he wanted Steve to whisper silly names into his ear all night, not grab a mop to save them from descending into chaos.

 

Finding and mopping away the dust bunnies under the sofa had been kind of cathartic, to be honest. He was a man of precision and he would damn well find each and every one of these little bastards and get them out of their house. 

 

The washing machine had been a whole other story. Space-age fucking gadgets.

Thank God for laundry labels in things or he would have put Steve’s uniform in with the sheets.  
Who’s bright idea was it to make a soldier’s uniform only washable at 104°F anyway? 

Why?

Shouldn’t he be able to boil that damn thing?

Did that person not care what kind of grime Steve was crawling through at all?

What the hell.

 

Dinner though. Dinner was delicious, if he could say so himself. 

Bacon made everything taste good, even his overcooked beans and canned tomatoes. Better overcooked than raw, though. 

Steve had bought them in bulk, ready to boil but not canned. Instead they had a whole fucking 10 lbs sack of beans in their pantry. If the nuclear winter hit, they would probably be able to eat like kings for a whole month before running into any problem. 

And he hadn’t even braved a look at all the stuff in deep freezer down stairs. Lord have mercy. 

Stevie was a damn hamster. 

 

 

Around mid-day he had noticed something that gave him a happy little jolt. The Tupperware with the left-overs was gone. Steve must have taken it with him for lunch at work. 

Aw. He had made his Stevie lunch.

 

An hour later, he actually got the confirmation. A photo of the empty container with the caption ‚Best lunch I ever had at Shield‘. 

Smooth talker. Bucky masked his smile with a frown. His guy took fucking Hoover Stew to work.

 

Which is how he ended up picking the bake for dinner that night - if Steve was going to take the left-overs to work, those should at least not look goddamn embarrassing. Hoover Stew, soup kitchen food was what it was!

 

* * *

 

This time he actually made it to the front door, tipped off by the sound of the gravel crunching in their driveway. They’d put it there for a reason, after all. 

Steve looked briefly stunned at seeing he stand in the entry-way but recovered quickly and hung up his jacket like normal. 

„Did you miss me, honey?“ Careful, while straightening out his jacket on the hanger. He could basically see the ‚don’t make Bucky feel weird about this, Rogers‘ flash through Stevie’s mind.

„Yeah, I did.“ No use in lying. He always did. The world was a dangerous place and he never knew when Steve would be back home again. Of course, he’d missed him.

 

The tall frame spun around to him. It was a fucking miracle that a body this broad and tall could move this nimbly without looking awkward. All that awkward, gangly movement had been turned into the even gait of some kind of predator when Steve had been given the serum. 

It was gorgeous.

 

„You did not worry about me, didya Buck?“ Starting early on those hard-hitting questions tonight. Aces.

„Kinda. You’re not exactly going off to be an accountant in Whoville, Steve.“ He was pulled into a hug, crossed arms and all. 

„I’ve got a whole lotta friends to come save me, if something happens. You don’t have to look out for me on your own ever again, Buck. We’re not alone anymore.“

Damn him. „As if anyone could keep me from finding your ass.“

Great, he was laughed at. „Of course, honey. I don’t wanna see them try. You’d be impossible to keep away.“ 

Bucky snorted „They’d better don’t. I’m gonna drag your ass back home, even if it’s the last thing I do.“

He straightened up in Steve’s arms „Now come on, dinner time. I didn’t slave away over the stove for nothing.“ Evil stove from hell.

 

„Yessir.“ 

 

* * *

 

As expected (hoped for), Steve was praising his efforts left and right. His cooking was fantastic, his bread just had to be his mom’s recipe and the house was sparkling.

Steve was a sap.

 

* * *

 

The dishes were cleared and the table was wiped and they were left with a whole, incredible evening of nothing to do.

No work to head off to, no last-minute dinner plans, no dancing, no chores. Nothing. 

Just time to sit on the couch together like a couple of 96 year-olds, listen to the radio and talk about silly memories from nearly a century ago. 

 

Mid-way through recalling smashing Mrs. Travella’s window with a baseball (or homemade equivalent thereof…) Bucky’s mind came to screeching stop. 

„I got no ‚I’m back home‘-kiss yet.“ 

Steve looked like a deer in headlights at his accusatory tone. 

„I cook and clean this damn place and I don’t even get a kiss? Really, jerk, you“-

He got his kiss. And it wasn’t just a ‚back home‘- kiss, it was a long, toe-curling ‚I screwed up and here look at what I can do with my tongue! Are are you still mad?‘-kiss. 

„I’m sorry, baby.“ Steve’s hands were in his hair, only allowing him a few centimeters of space. „You deserve better than that.“ 

Bucky wet his lips „I really do. I do all this work and all I get are a few ‚honeys‘ out of it.“ The start of a smirk was pulling at his lips. 

The slight hint of steel was creeping back into those eyes „Won’t happen again, doll. You’re so good, you should get whatever you want.“ He was good. Fuck yes.

He was pulled on Steve’s lap with ease „What do you want, honey? Wanna neck on the couch all night?“ Delicious kisses wandered up his throat. He loved where this was going.

„Or you wanna get sucked, baby? Or eaten out for being so good, hm?“ Yes, please. Bucky couldn’t help but grind down into Steve’s lap. 

He bit down on his grin „m not fast, Rogers. Not some chorus girl you can sweet talk and ravish in her dressing room.“ 

Those soft lips pulled into a smile underneath his own „Oh, you sure aren’t, doll face. You’re my girl, been living with me for years. I’d make an honest woman outta you, if you’d let me.“

 

A hot shiver went down his spine. So much to not think about. 

„I’m your girl, Stevie?“

„Course you are. My best girl. I’d put a ring on your finger in a heartbeat.“ A hand moved down his spine to the small of his back. „Just say the word and you got it, honey.“

 

A desperate want gripped his chest. This is what he imagined asthma attacks felt like for Steve. There was not enough air in the world to make the squeezing go away.

„Hey. No need to panic, Buck. I can knock it off anytime.“ Oh shit. 

It got out on a slip of breath „I want it.“

 

„Bucky?“

„I want it so badly, Steve.“

„You can have it, honey. Just tell me what you want.“ 

„Wanna be your girl.“

„Okay.“ 

„Your“- he could not look at him. He just couldn’t. „Your wife at home, just… taking care of stuff.“

Stuff. Ha. 

Steve was gonna laugh at him. Fucking silly. Wife. 

He was no goddamn wife. He was a fucking-

 

„Of course, you can, Buck. Wanna skip straight to marrying or got time for some engagement first?“

Engagement. Fucking Steve, did not know when to stop making jokes!

„I’ll go buy a ring right now, Buck, if you wanna.“ 

 

So damn sincere. The big oaf was not joking.

„I’m a man, you jerk. Can’t be your wife.“

Oh. And now he was getting the patented ‚Captain America is disappointed in you‘ look. 

„The hell you can’t. If you wanna be my pretty, little wife you fucking can, Buck. This is 2018. We can do whatever the fuck we want.“

 

His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Steve was serious. 

„You’d want me to?“

A tender smile appeared on his lips „Of course, I do. I’d take you as a working husband or a stay-at-home wife, darling. Doesn’t matter to me.“

Doesn’t matter. 

 

Bucky’s chest squeezed again. „Matters to me.“ 

The hand on his face moved to his hair and started stroking. „Wanna tell me what you wanna be for me, baby, hm? Gotta know what our marriage is gonna look like.“ God, the tenderness in that voice was doing him in fast.

Steve was the absolute best.

 

Bucky let his face sink onto a broad shoulder. Yes, gotta have the pre-marriage talk. Oh Lord.

He was getting married.

„I… I don’t want to go out to work, Stevie. Not for a while. I can’t. I just wanna be home and take care of things. Of you. And be“- he could fucking do this. 

„Be told how good I am for you. How… how pretty and sweet. No one ever told me that. And I just need it, Stevie.“ He dared to make eye contact again. Steve was listening intently, patiently. He’d listen no matter how long this would take. „I need it so badly.“

„That’s a damn shame, Buck. You’re the sweetest“ he hesitated, clearly unsure if he should say guy or girl. The worried crease between his eyebrows was back. „girl I’ve ever met.“

 

He pressed a kiss to Steve’s clavicle. „You don’t gotta call me that if you don’t wanna. I just…“ he hid his face against the shoulder again. „I just wanna be a fucking wife for a while. Like it used to be, Steve. With you coming home and me being there with dinner, all put together and pretty. Having doors held for me and be sweet-talked instead of fucking told to suck it up like a man.“

 

„I can do that, darling.“ His face was nudged up by a gentle hand. „I meant it, Buck. You’re it for me. And if you ever wanna be my husband instead, you only got to tell me. You can be whatever you want to be, with me.“

Then he got a sly little smile. Steve was about to be a shit. „And I’m sure not saying no to a pretty thing like you wanting to be treated like a lady, sweetheart. But I’m gonna try my damn hardest to sweet talk you outta your panties in a hurry.“

Bucky couldn’t clamp down on his smile any longer. „Got no panties, Rogers. Take your mind outta the gutter.“ 

„Shame.“ He got a chaste peck, then the attentive ‚I’m listening‘ look was back.

 

„I don’t have more to tell.“ He thought so, at least.

His hip got a squeeze. „How about sex, honey. You wanna hold off until we marry?“ Hell no! His affronted look was apparently enough of an answer.

 

„And if we do it, am I having sex with a guy or a girl, Buck?“ Wh-

„I mean, if I’m with a guy, he’d might like to be sucked or slip it to me instead. I could just assume with a dame, Buck.“ Oh, this fucker! 

His stomach spasmed. He hadn’t thought about this. „You could. I could just tell you, if I don’t want you to, right?“

A kiss landed on his cheek. „Sure, you could. Not gonna say no to my pretty lady switching it up on me or my best guy wanting to have some fun.“

„Good.“ Fuck. Steve was the absolute best. 

 

Bucky knew he was setting up a role, an illusion of a life he could never really have. No matter how much he might have wanted it sometimes back then. Just to be Steve’s girl, clever enough to beg him to stay home with her instead of going to war and having all the babies with him.

Things could have been so much easier. Steve would be the best husband and he damn well deserved the best wife. 

 

„How about your body? Do you want me to look at you like you’ve got girl parts or“- Bucky jumped back into the conversation. Oh.

Bless him. Steve thought of asking things he hadn’t even thought he could have. Girl parts, he.

Did Steve have some kind of direct link to his deepest, darkest fantasies?

And how was he just completely fine with all of this?

 

„I’d like to try.“ 

„Brave girl.“ Another kiss, this time to his brow. He was squeezed in those big arms, like he needed to be reassured. He did, and Steve just knew.  
„Now, we’ve never had sex with you being a girl before, right?“ he could feel his lips moving in his hair at the crown of his head.

„No.“ The hand on his hip gave another squeeze and Steve was blushing up to the roots of his hair. This was going to be good.

„Are we gonna pretend we have then or are you going to be a virgin, Buck?“

 

His first reaction was to laugh. Then his hip was squeezed again.

„I’m being serious here. What do you want us to do?“

Bucky could barely suppress his amusement. „What, you gonna sweet talk me into your bed if I tell you I wanna be a virgin, Rogers? Treat me all delicate and respectable like a real gentleman?“ He was going for teasing but he lost steam towards the end.

Those eyes were so damn earnest. „Course I would, jerk. Not gonna throw a sweet girl like that down and treat her like she knows how to take it. Can’t do that to my future wife, can I?“

Bucky’s stomach clenched with want. 

Just the thought of being treated so, so gently. Like allowing Steve to fuck him was some big thing again, not something they did on the regular. 

Steve would be so fucking gentle. He’d had to be, with how strong he was now. 

It’d be so different from the first time little Stevie had slipped it to him. They had both been fumbling boys back then and it had been as perfect as it could have been but…

The thought of getting that again with this huge man gently pushing him into the mattress and using all that experience to make it good for him… fuck. 

 

„You better sweet talk me good then, Captain. I’m not just gonna faint at your feet.“

The smile he got was like the sun, lighting up the whole room. „I would never dream of that, darling. I’m gonna put a ring on your hand, of course I’ll treat you right.“

 

For the first time ever, Bucky had an idea of what he did to a girl when he pulled all the stops on her. That smile made him want to give it up already but there was no way he could make it that easy for Steve. 

What kind of girl would he be?

 


	3. Buttermilk Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a day late, I had to do a bit more research for a few things in this chapter which took more time than expected. 
> 
> Thank you very much for all you incredible encouragement. I appreciate it immensely.

„Good morning, sweetheart.“ Persistent kisses along his neck were pulling Bucky out of his sleep.   
Sweetheart. A small smile appeared on his lips. Right.  
„Do you want to sleep a little more or do you want to get up early again?“   
The firm stroking along his waist made him want to purr like a cat. So did the fact, that Steve had decided to let him make that decision instead of just letting him sleep like he usually did.

„Wanna get up.“ He turned around and snuggled closer to that impossibly broad chest. „But don’t want to let you go.“  
Steve chuckled. „I can give you a lift down to the kitchen, darling.“   
With that, he was pulled onto Steve’s lap, kissed and then carried down the stairs princess-style.   
He could hear the calm, steady beat of his heart beneath his ear and it was the best sound in the world.   
Healthy, happy Steve close enough to touch; perfection.

He was set down on the kitchen counter and pulled into another hug.   
„You’re grabby today.“ his voice was still raspy from sleep.  
A shy smile was shining down at him from Steve’s face „I get to marry you, Bucky.“  
Then something like fear crept into that sweet expression „You - you didn’t just say that last night, right? Cause, I meant it. I wanna buy a ring for you today, Buck.“  
The final dredges of sleepiness disappeared, chased away by the fierce need to reassure this big idiot.   
„Idiot! Of course, I’m going to marry you! Fucking would have before the War if I could have!“

The fear lurking in the cerulean eyes disappeared.   
„Would have married you too, you jerk.“ His back got a gentle squeeze. „Finally get to marry my best guy and get to spoil him the way he deserves.“  
Best guy… Bucky bit his lip. Did Stevie forget -

„Still, got no idea how a punk like me got a sweet thing like you, Buck. Gonna be the prettiest bride around.“  
„Aren’t a punk, Stevie. You’re the best man I ever saw.“   
Nothing like the god honest truth to make this morning less heavy. Ha.  
But that blush and that sweet smile were worth it.   
„Just trying to do right by my girl.“ He’d call Steve out on being self-deprecating if he wasn’t swooning so much internally. His man was smooth.

„Should get to running then and let your girl do her job. Coffee ain’t gonna brew itself.“  
„Yes, ma’am.“ Aw, he got a little salute. And Steve was off towards the bedroom again to get his running gear.   
He’d never understand his man’s enjoyment of getting up early to do PE like he actually needed it to keep fit.   
He himself didn’t need to do all that much to keep up his form and his serum had been a cheap knock-off of Steve’s version.   
Still, he enjoyed how his body had changed over the last few months.   
Most of his Winter Soldier bulk had been transformed into leaner muscle, thanks to Yoga and abstaining from the grueling work-outs that had been drilled into him.   
And, despite the rather drastic change, Steve still was all over him. The guy clearly had it bad.

And said guy was running down the stairs towards the door… Oh hell no.  
„Hey, soldier! You got some kind of problem remembering to kiss your dame or something?“  
The running changed course. Really, first he forgot to kiss him when getting back from work and now he wanted to run out of the house without saying goodbye.   
What kind of guy was he about to marry? (The absolute best.)

„Sorry, baby. I start kissing you and I never wanna let you go. Doesn’t help me to leave the house.“ The rueful smile made him loose his mock-frown. „Sap.“ Trying to keep his face neutral failed utterly. Oh well. No need to be stealthy, right? He could make doe eyes at Steve as much as he wanted.  
  
„See you later, darling.“ The kiss he got was soft and rather chaste but the sweet look he got when Steve pulled back still liquified his insides. „Gonna be back in 40 minutes.“   
He gave the shoulder under his hand a squeeze „Make Sam cough up a lung for me.“  
He got an evil little smirk „Will do.“ Steve was a shit. „Be good while I’m gone.“

And Steve was running off.  
As if Bucky was going to be anything but good!   
He jumped off the counter and started preparing their coffee machine.

Tony had tried to push a whole host of different machines at them but they still ended up coming back to percolators, much to Stark’s dismay. People just had no patience anymore.   
What did it matter if it took him five minutes to have a cup of coffee?   
He had the satisfaction of smelling it brew and hearing the water bubbling while he waited. It was an experience, damnit, not a race.

Also, grinding his own beans was the best thing ever. He could decide how finely ground they needed to be and just how much he needed.   
He could totally do a coarse ground for that fancy cold-brew coffee people liked so much today come summer, without needing to buy some new fancy coffee ground for way too much money.  He allowed himself a wistful little smile at the image of serving it to Steve on their porch, garnished with whipped cream and ice cream. He could totally do that now.   
Not to mention that whole beans were quite a bit cheaper (at a certain quality) than ground coffee… and at a loss of aroma at that.   
Convenience really wasn’t the most important factor sometimes.

Well, at least for him.  
He wanted good coffee.

Thinking of good coffee, he could put some in a thermos for Steve when it was done.   
The poor man had to resort to Starbucks every afternoon. Or terrible Shield office coffee.   
He pulled the Tupperware with left-over bean bake out of the fridge and put it on top of the counter, a spoon fastened to the lid with two rubber bands. Bucky bit his lip: if he was going to pack coffee for Steve he could add another snack too. He knew how much the man liked his sweets with his afternoon coffee, thanks to quite a few photos of cinnamon rolls and pain au chocolat he had received over the months.

He pulled a smaller Tupperware container out of a cupboard and put one of his cupcakes in. Sorted.  
His Stevie would leave their house with everything he needed today.  
The satisfaction he felt at that was simmering in his stomach.

Breakfast now.   
Steve had always loved porridge, when they had enough time and money to have some. Porridge with milk and fruit sounded pretty delicious to him as well this morning, so porridge it was.

While the milk was heating up slowly on a middle flame, he ran up the stairs to make the beds. Already up there, he decided to get dressed as well.   
Look at him being productive again.

He decided on one of his softest black Yoga work-out pants and a light blue henley and made his way back down the stairs again. Just in time to hear the milk start bubbling. Time to put the oats in.

In went the oats, a pinch of salt and a teaspoon of butter. They had never had enough of that to waste it like this but he still remembered that his mom used to always add a bit to their oatmeal when his dad needed the extra-strength at work. And Steve could need all the strength he could get, considering the mad-house he worked at.   
He kept an eye on the bubbling milk, while he started up the percolator.   
Steve should be back in ten minutes now. Perhaps he’d even manage to pour their coffee before he got his kiss hello this time.

Once he deemed the oats cooked, he pulled the pot off the flame and got two bowls out. He took his time, carefully layering porridge and blueberries and sprinkling some brown sugar and almonds on top.   
He put the bowls on the kitchen island, set out spoons for each of them and turned towards the fridge to pour their orange juice.

He poured their coffee, hearing Steve walk up the driveway. The sun was shining through the kitchen window, basking their kitchen island in a warm glow. Bucky had a surreal, happy moment.   
They were alive, they were about to be married and to have a decadent, warm breakfast together.   
Someone up there must want to make up for all the shit they put both of them through at the start of their lives to give him something so beautiful.

„Hey, sweetheart.“  
He must have spaced out for a second, because Steve was already in the kitchen and putting his arms around his waist. „You made porridge for me?“  
He got a sweet kiss on the cheek. Like a proper lady.   
„Yeah. You still like that, right?“  
„I do. Do you mind if I take my shower after breakfast? Don’t want to let it go cold.“  
Oh yes, because a slightly musky smelling Steve was such a hardship. He wasn’t dripping in sweat or dragging mud all over the floor.  
„It’s fine, Stevie. Let’s eat.“  
He got a sly grin „Not offended by a stinky man, honey?“  
„Oh, fuck off.“  
  


* * *

  
Steve had left him with a kiss to the lips and a gentle reminder that Sam would pick him up and take him to the VA for his therapy appointment at 1030. 

He knew.  
And he was worried about it.

Did he tell Dr. Ross that he was about to get married? Did he mention the whole wife thing?  
  
On one side, he was supposed to talk about stuff that occupied his mind and the current situation was at the forefront of it.   
On the other side, he wasn’t sure if he was comfortable talking about it yet. At least to anyone who wasn’t Steve.

To distract himself, he made sure to do his whole Yoga routine, if only to feel like he had done it like he was supposed to. Then he went on to clean their bathrooms and dust both floors.   
The physical work did a lot to keep his mind occupied enough to let his anxiousness about his appointment with Dr. Ross remain at a manageable level.

Also, he got dinner planned out: potato, spinach, salmon and cheese casserole it was.   
Canned salmon. That poor fish.  
  


* * *

 

In the end, his worry had been entirely unfounded.   
Dr. Ross’s secretary called at 0800 to let him know that the doctor was sick and wouldn’t be in today. The woman apologized profusely and didn’t seem to register his (kind of relieved) acceptance at first. She had probably had quite a few freaked out reactions to the news already.

While a welcome development, this still left Bucky with a whole lot of nothing to do. He should probably call Sam to let him know that he didn’t need to pick him up.  
As he went over to their home-phone, he heard steps coming up their driveway.   
  
They were not Steve’s or Sam’s. He took a deep breath, trying to control the spike of adrenalin entering his bloodstream.   
He was going to be alright.   
The sounds he could hear only indicated one person.   
He could take on one person, even unarmed. And he had weapons close by. He knew all the exits in their house.   
He was on his turf.

The doorbell rang. He took a deep breath and started to approach the door from the side. No way of being hit, if the person decided to shoot through it or ram it.   
  
„Sergeant Barnes? This is Terry! Captain Rogers sent me with a delivery for you!“  
Terry.   
The relief that flooded his veins was like a tidal wave.   
Until he reigned it in. He could be tricked.

A look at the screen next to their front door confirmed that it was indeed Terry. Okay.  
Bucky took another deep breath and slowly opened the door.

Immediately, Terry’s 1000 Watt smile was greeting him. He had no idea how the guy managed to be so happy all the time.  
„Good morning, Sergeant! I’m sorry, Captain Rogers wanted me to take care of this yesterday but the store had a hard time tracking down one of the items and only got it late last night. I hope I’m not dropping by too early, Sir.“  
Terry was clearly holding a big, gift wrapped box out to him. Reflexively, Bucky took it.   
„No, it’s fine.“ Charming, Barnes.  
He probably should be a bit more friendly with Steve’s secretary.   
„Would you like a cup of coffee?“ Smooth.

„Oh, thank you, Sir. I’m a bit strapped for time, so I can’t come in. But I appreciate it.“ He got another smile. „I apologize for dropping by so early. Have a nice day, Sergeant Barnes.“  
And he was walking off.

He had no idea what Steve needed a secretary for, but apparently, the poor guy was pretty busy.  
  


* * *

 

Bucky had never received such a prettily wrapped present.   
His last Christmas present had been a weekend in the Rockies in a cabin with Steve, presented to him in an envelope.   
They were flown out with one of Tony’s helicopters and spent a wonderful weekend in a log cabin in front of a roaring fireplace. It had been fantastic.

But it hadn’t been wrapped with red, polka-dot wrapping paper and held closed with a white, silk ribbon. It was a far cry from the newspaper wrappings he was used to.

He carefully untied the ribbon and carefully cut through the sticky tape with one of his knives.   
When the paper fell away, it revealed a gorgeous, white cardboard box. There was an embossed logo on the lid, proclaiming the box to belong to „Mary’s vintage home goods and gadgets“.   
Hm.  
He lifted the lid, to reveal another layer of thin, nearly see-through paper, held together by a sticker. Black with a white M.   
After slicing through that as well, lifting up the paper finally revealed the gift

Bucky’s throat constricted. The straps immediately gave him a pretty good idea of what he was looking at.

With shaking fingers, he lifted the black piece of cloth out and unfolded it on the kitchen island. His guess had been right.   
It was an apron.

Steve had got him a fucking apron.

It wasn’t overtly… female but…   
It was an apron.  
He had never had one as a child. But all the girls in neighborhood had had them as soon as they could walk. They were part of everyday wear back then.

He had never seen his Ma or Sarah without one when they were home. It was like their work uniform.   
And Steve had bought him one now.

He allowed himself [a closer look](https://www.flirtyaprons.com/womens-kenzie-uptown-beauty-apron-1690).   
It was probably knee length on him. The bib had black and white stripes, the straps were black. Below the waist strap, the apron was a solid black. He couldn’t help but touch the waist strap. It was long, clearly made to tie into a pretty bow.   
Oh, God.

He pulled his eyes away from it, back to the box. There was more.

[It was a green and yellow checkered print](https://www.amazon.com/Lovely-unique-design-Cooking-Kitchen/dp/B017T05H1U/ref=as_li_ss_tl?s=kitchen&ie=UTF8&qid=1481414227&sr=1-6&keywords=vintage+apron&linkCode=ll1&tag=vintagedancer-20&linkId=61142b85282d521c54b8aae954df28d8), waiting for him to pull it out.   
When he did, he revealed a slightly shorter apron with a green pocket and a green trim above the knee. The daisies, lining the bib of it made a nervous, giddy feeling rise in his stomach. Flowers.   
Steve didn’t mind seeing him with pretty little flowers on his clothes.  
The straps were green and not as long as on the black and white one. 

He turned away. This was a lot to take in.

The last thing in the box was a stack of soft, blue cotton-napkins, held together by another white silk-ribbon. He could just imagine them on their dining table, pulling them out of the laundry, ironing them just to put them back on their table again.   
They were beautiful.

The thing was, he wasn’t supposed to want all of this.  
Steve could tell him that this was 2018 all he wanted, it still didn’t make him entirely comfortable with all of this.  
He wasn’t supposed to get sweet gifts like this.   
He wasn’t supposed to be at home and think about dinner and washing napkins.   
He was supposed to be out there and bring back as much money as he could.

But he couldn’t, and the knowledge that he didn’t have to was a relief.  
Also, he didn’t want to.

The cloth of the black apron felt slightly rough under his flesh hand. It was durable, clearly made to be worked in.   
A shy smile made its way up to his face. He had always been a hard worker.

Housework had always been hard work. He still remembered helping his Ma to wring out the sheets every 10 days.   
His arms had been shaking when he was done and his Ma had already wrung out all their clothes while he was in school.   
Then, three days later he’d rush over to Sarah’s and pester Steve until he let him help him to deal with their wringing. Little punk had always tried on his own, no matter how useless it had been. And Sarah hadn’t had the heart to tell him to stop. Bless her.  
Thanks to Sarah working, they’d always had so much laundry to wring in the afternoon. His Ma used to space out the loads throughout the day but Sarah didn’t have a way to do that.   
  
Modern washing machines would have been such a relief for their mothers.

Sure, washing machines had been around in the 30s, just not in the worker’s houses he grew up in.   
There was a laundry shed in the backyard, shared by up to 20 families. Everyone had their laundry day to wash all their clothes, intermittent washing was impossible because the machine was busy all the time.   
The machine would boil their laundry and agitate it but a spin-cycle and pre-wash soak were still a fever-dream.

And here he was, with a washing machine that spit out nearly dry laundry and a lighting fast dryer.   
He touched the black apron again. Perhaps, he could try it on. Just for a moment.

***

Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from the mirror.   
He looked good.

He’d been afraid to look entirely ridiculous, too big and tall to make this pretty apron look good. But… it was nice.  
The waist strap gave him a nice silhouette and seeing the big bow near his hip sent a sweet little tingle through his body.   
It wasn’t girly enough to make him anxious but it also clearly wasn’t a „manly“ apron. He loved it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled out his cell phone and snapped a quick photo in the bathroom mirror. The sweet little smile he saw peeking in at the top edge of his picture made him blush. Steve would be so happy to see it.   
He hit send before he could allow himself to become insecure again. 

Now he needed something to do or he’d remain rooted to the spot waiting for Steve’s response.

***

Bucky ended up baking Buttermilk cookies to calm his nerves.   
According to the internet, they were easy to make and always a hit, so he should run into no trouble there. They were definitely easier to make than the cupcakes.

The batter was definitely easy. He only had to mix sugar, butter, and the egg and whisk them until they were creamy and fluffy.   
Then he added a pinch of salt, flour, and buttermilk and finally a bit of baking soda. Done.   
It was dropped on a baking sheet in little heaps and baked for about ten minutes.

As his recipe included a simple frosting and he still had some of his home-made icing sugar, he proceeded to whip up a quick vanilla icing while he waited for the oven timer to go off.

After his cookies had cooled off and were topped with the icing, his cell phone pinged.   
Steve had finally replied.

_‚Sorry, baby. I was in a meeting.‘_   
_‚You look so gorgeous. Do you like them?‘_   
_‚It will look even prettier with your ring, darling.‘_

His ring.   
The giddiness was starting up again. He’d get an engagement ring.

He still remembered the _‚engagement rings are important‘_ talk they had received in school.   
Gotta love corporate propaganda by diamond-sellers.

He had never imagined himself wearing one of those. He had had a hard time imagining even buying one of them.   
The only hand he'd ever wanted to put a ring on was Stevie’s hand and that wasn’t something he would have been able to do in their time.

To be honest, he was kind of glad that he hadn’t been a girl back then.   
The sheer stress of having to take care of him and putting a ring on his finger would have spelled disaster for his sweet, sick Steve.   
Now they could live a happy mock-version of the life he would have liked to have, all their other problems included.

Bucky tried one of his cookies.   
Shell-shock had been ignored when people returned from war. He was glad to actually get therapy, as hard as it might be some days.   
Vaccines and all the other medical advances were a blessing as well.   
He had much to be grateful for. As horrible as his time with Hydra had been, it ultimately was the reason he was here today and able to live this life with the love of his life.

The doorbell was ringing again.   
Shit.

He’d forgotten to call Sam.   
Fuck.

He rushed to the door, confirmed his visitor with a glance at the screen and opened the door.

„Goo“- Sam looked stunned.  
Oh.  
„Morning.“ He sounded defensive to his own ears. This was just perfect.  
„What are you up to, Martha Steward?“ What?  
„Okay, quit it with the Terminator face, man. I’m not judging. You look pretty damn sweet. But you gotta get a move on if you don’t wanna go to therapy like this.“

„My therapist is sick. I forgot to call you. I’m sorry.“   
Suddenly, Sam looked worried. „Are you okay, man? I got an hour until I need to get to the VA. We can talk if you need to.“  
Hm.

Slightly unsure of what he was doing, Bucky stepped back and held the door open.   
„Wow! What’s smelling so nice in here?“  
„I made cookies.“

Sam whipped around. „You what?“  
Bucky’s spine went stiff. Was Sam making fun of him?  
He stalked over to the windowsill and grabbed the baking tray.   
„Here“, he pushed it towards the man. Sam was looking like a fish outta water, with his wide-open mouth and big eyes. „Buttermilk cookies. Try one.“

Look at him, handing out cookies to unsuspecting Avengers on a Friday morning. In an apron.   
He was so not ready for this.

Sam looked spooked.   
No wonder, he was probably eye-balling him like he was about to go all Winter Soldier on him if he didn’t eat the damn cookie.   
As soon as he had half the cookie in his mouth though, his expression did a complete one-eighty.  
„You baked this?!“

„Yeah. I did.“ You got a problem with that?  
„Man! That’s good! You bake now?“  
Bucky sighed. „I do. It’s relaxing. And it saves money.“

„It does?“ Sam was eyeing the tray like a starved man. „This is amazing, dude! I had no idea.“

„It’s… I started after Tony’s birthday party. Cupcakes are fucking expensive, could have saved $28 if I made them myself.“  
Sam was giving him the bug eyes again. Ugh.   
„You want some coffee?“ He still had a little more than two cups in his percolater, held warm for his mid-day snack.   
„Yes. Thank you.“ Probably needed it, after the shock of the Winter Soldier baking.  
„Two sugar, a bit of milk, right?“  
„Right.“ It sounded more like a question. „You know how I take my coffee?“  
„You’ve all been over for dinner. I remember stuff.“ Sue him.

„Yeah but“-   
He handed Sam his cup.   
„I pick up details about people. I can’t help it. I’m trained to. Do you want me to pretend like I don’t know how you take your coffee?“  
He clamped down on the uncomfortable tension trying to take a hold of him.   
Sam wouldn’t judge him for something he had no control over.   
Also, he liked to remember little things like this for the people he cared about.

For a moment, it was nice and quiet in his kitchen, with Sam taking a sip of his coffee and finishing his cookie.  
„I get why Steve was so happy yesterday. You made a lot of progress since Tony’s birthday.“ Sam was ready to be serious then.

Bucky fixed himself a cup as well. He could barely feel the effects thanks to the serum but he appreciated the comfort of the ritual enough to keep doing it.  
„Thanks. It’s… it’s nice to have something to do. It’s just cooking and cleaning but it’s more than I did before.“ Sam’s seriousness helped to relax his tension. Sam was not judging him.  
He got a big smile „It’s more than that, man. You’re taking control of the space around you and your time. That’s huge.“

Bucky needed a moment to mull the idea over. Sam was right.   
„You decide what to do with your time and you decide to make your house look how you want it. You’re making tons of progress here.“ Falcon took a sip of his coffee „And you’re not afraid anymore to tell me off for being rude. You always just clammed up and gave me the stink-eye before.“

Ha. He did.  
„Kept me from strangling you.“ He shot Sam a grim little smile.  
„Ooohhh! Cruel!“ The man was laughing. This was probably the longest conversation they had ever had. So far, he’d only managed to really talk to Natasha and Clint.   
His conversations with Tony always included a lot of silence and tinkering on his arm. They were both okay with that.

„So, you’re doing the full stay-at-home partner thing now?“ Sam sneaked another cookie.   
A sweet warmth started to rise up in his stomach. Sam was enjoying what he had made. Fuck yes.  
„Yes.“ He was. „It’s… I can’t not work. I’ve always had some kind of work before the war. With Steve. I need to contribute and housework is work too. I don’t have to go out to do that and it’s… it’s nice to give Steve something to come back to.“  
Steve would come back to a goddamn cave if he was in there.

„From international assassin to homemaker. Sweet career change, man.“ Sam was actually serious. Bucky needed a moment to process that.  
„You don’t mind?“ He wished he had a better hold onto the vulnerability he was pretty sure he was displaying in his eyes. He hated being vulnerable with anyone but Steve or his therapist.

He got a snort „Why would I? You can do whatever you want. And spending your time recovering and making a nice home for yourself and your partner sounds pretty damn sweet to me.“   
It did.   
His eyes strayed to the napkins on the kitchen counter.

„It’s still new. I just decided that I want to do this yesterday.“   
„You’re baking pretty good for someone who’s just starting out, dude.“ Sam stole another cookie.   
„I’ve still got a few cupcakes. You wanna try?“

The strawberries on the top were a little dry now but they were still perfectly edible.   
He pulled the plate out of the fridge. They still had half a dozen left and he’d hate to throw them out. „You made these?“

„Yeah. We paid 42 fucking dollars for Tony’s cupcakes and I just had to try how much it’d cost to make them.“ He handed one over to Sam. „I think they taste nice but I have no idea what cupcakes are supposed to taste like.“   
Sam took a big bite out of the pink little cake, eating nearly half of it.

„That’s fucking amazing!“ He was eyeing the plate now. „You sure you never baked before?“  
„I’m good at following instructions.“ He was not going to be bitter about this. Years of following orders were at least good for something.

„Sure are.“ He sipped at his coffee again. „We’re hosting a bake sale at the VA next Saturday. If you’d like, you could donate something and I could bring it in for you. Only if you want to, of course.“  
„A bake sale?“  
„Yeah, we’re looking to renovate our arts and crafts room and the government allowance for that doesn’t quite cut it. We’ll sell cake and stuff on the farmer’s market a few roads down.“

Hm. He could do that.   
„What do you need me to make?“  
„Whatever you want, dude. I think cookies or cupcakes would sell quite well. You know so that people don’t have to carry around a big honking cake. But do what you want. If you“-  
„I want to.“ It would be nice to do something for the community.

„Awesome. We just need a list of ingredients for whatever you bake. Allergies are pretty much everywhere nowadays.“   
„I can do that.“ The idea of giving something he made away to help others get better actually made him feel accomplished.

The astonished look on Sam’s face pulled him back to the present.   
„What?“  
„Nothing“, he got a wink. „Just the first time I actually saw you smile like that, man. Never believed Steve when he was chewing my ear off about how pretty you are but I can totally see that now.“  
All air seemed to disappear from his lungs. „Pretty?“  
That got a bark of laughter. „Don’t tell me he doesn’t tell you! If anyone gives him half a chance, he’ll sing your praises until they stop him.“   
He could feel his blush. Fucking Steve.  
Sam looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Ha.

„What, you never saw a guy blush before?“

Sam was getting up, hands held at shoulder height in appeasement.   
„Not judging, man. I’d probably get all mushy too if someone told me someone’s singing my praises like this.“ He emptied his coffee mug. „Gotta get going now. Tuesday at the same time?“

Tuesday, his next therapy appointment.   
„Sure. Got the neurologist appointment right after.“ He hated going to the neurologist. The MRI always freaked him out.   
Thankfully, his arm wasn’t magnetic, so he could keep that on at least. Being unable to keep it, would probably freak him out more.

„No problem, man. I got groups until 1500 anyway. Just give me a call and I’ll take you back.“

Following an impulse, Bucky grabbed a Tupperware container and put the rest of his cupcakes in.   
„Wanna take these with you? Steve and I probably would have to throw them out soon.“ He hated waste. Especially food waste.

That got him an excited smile „Sure, man! My co-workers are gonna love this! Let me know about that bake sale, yeah?“

And Sam was out the door, leaving Bucky with a weird kind of accomplishment. Another person taken care off. And he had even more plans for the future.  
  


* * *

 

Putting the bake sale on their kitchen-calendar felt great. Steve had put all kinds of events in there and so far, but only doctor’s appointments were on there in his chicken-scratch.   
For the first time ever, he could put down an event. And he was reasonably sure that more would follow.

He spent the rest of the day doing some more Yoga, vacuuming all their rugs and looking up recipes for the bake-sale.  
  


* * *

 

His casserole was merrily bubbling away in the oven, spreading delicious smells all throughout their house.   
Bucky had set their table half an hour ago and he was getting anxious.   
Sure, Steve had called to let him know that he’d be home a bit later than usual but that he couldn’t help but worry. As usual.   
You never knew what kind of shit Captain America would attract.   
Bucky had solved more than enough of that with his trusty rifle to not be wary of any diversions from their routine.

He only noticed that he had stood there, ruminating, when he heard the crunch of Steve’s steps on the driveway. Thank God.   
Any more waiting and he’d probably started to clean his guns again.   
It had been the only outlet for nervous energy he had been able to allow himself shortly after leaving Hydra and it had stuck with him.

The door swung open, revealing a beaming, gorgeously excited Steve, clad in a blue pea-coat. God, he was handsome.   
„Sorry to keep you waiting, honey.“ He hung up his coat. „Engraving your ring took a bit longer than expected.“

Warmth spread out through Bucky’s stomach. „You really got me a ring, Stevie?“  
He got a smile. „Sure did. Told you I’m going to be a real gentleman. Can’t have a house and all that and not give my girl a nice ring.“  
A real gentleman. The casual way Steve was talking about this was comforting on a level he hadn’t expected.   
Steve really didn’t care about how unusual their new arrangement was, he was all in.

„Now, I’m going to give my sweet bride a kiss and then we’re going to have dinner.“ A warm, soft hand cradled his face.   
„And later, we’re going to sit down on the couch, put on a record and I’m going to propose to you like you deserve.“ Fuck.  
He only got out a nod.

 

* * *

 

„How do you like the apron, Bucky?“   
They had settled on their couch to the soft sounds of Billie Holiday in the background.   
Steve hadn’t been able to pull his eyes away from him all night. He wasn’t sure what about him in this simple black and white thing was so irresistible, but Steve seemed to be absolutely smitten.  
„It’s nice. I… it makes this feel more… official. Like I’m doing a job.“ Like a uniform. A pretty one.  
„You are.“ A thick arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him onto Steve’s lap. „And you’re doing a pretty damn good job too, baby.“   
Bucky could feel the flush on his cheeks.   
„You think so?“ There he was, fishing for compliments. But he couldn’t help it, hearing Steve praise him was addicting.  
A kiss was pressed to his forehead „Of course, I do, sweetheart. You keep this house clean, you cook, you bake and you even made me coffee for the office today. You’re working so hard.“  
Kind of.   
He put his head down on Steve’s shoulder. „I like it. It’s nice to take care of you like that.“  
„Good.“ Steve’s free hand took a hold of his flesh hand and raised it up to his mouth. Bucky was pretty much melting at the kiss pressed to his knuckles.   
„A pretty thing like you should always enjoy herself, Bucky.“   
That was voice so fucking earnest again. He had no idea how he was supposed to melt any further but apparently, Steve was dead-set to make him do it.

„Now, do you think you’re ready to let me try and get you to accept my ring?“  
Bucky wasn’t sure there was such a thing as being ready for that. Still, he nodded.   
The nervousness gripping his stomach was surprisingly intense; he wasn’t the one proposing here.

„Look at me, darling?“  
As soon as he looked up, he was caught by an intent, open gaze. He was so, so loved.   
He squeezed the hand still holding his. He was getting choked up.   
God, that sweet smile. „Are you okay, doll?“  
„Yes.“ He sounded just as choked as he felt. „I just… I just love you so much.“

Lord, his sweet, sweet Steve actually got misty-eyed.  
  
„I love you so, so much too, baby. You were always it for me. The only person I ever wanted to spend my life with, no matter the shit we were in. When I was a sick kid back in Brooklyn, when we were touring Europe chasing Hydra…“ Fuck, there were actual tears.   
  
How did he deserve this man? He raised their clasped hands to Steve’s cheek.   
  
„When I was running after you when you didn’t know who you were. Would have taken you back anytime. Always. And now- I’m just the luckiest man on earth for having you around, Buck.“  
His hand on Steve’s cheek got a little squeeze.  
„I’d… give anything to have you with me for the rest of my life. Please, give me the chance to do that, Bucky. I want to be able to be with you any step of the way, through good and bad times, no matter what or where.“  
  
The tears were drying up but that gaze was burning into his eyes just as intensely as before.   
„Will you marry me, darling?“

He could feel his own tears rising up. Silly, stupid Steve.   
As if there was any chance of him saying no.

„I will. Of course, I will.“  
They were crushing each other in a desperate hug. He never had to let go again.   
Never again.  
Steve would be as much officially his as anyone could be.

After both their breathing had calmed down, Steve pulled back a little.   
„Gonna let me put that ring on your finger now, sweetheart?“

„Yes.“ God, yes.   
He was smiling so hard, his cheeks started hurting.

Steve was reaching down into a pocket in his trousers and pulled out a little velvet bag.   
He fiddled it open with shaking hands, endearing Bucky to no end.   
Look at his man, taking out the world’s biggest threats so calmly but turning into a shaking, gorgeous mess over putting a ring on his finger.

When he pulled it out and just as shakily pushed it onto his ring finger, Bucky’s whole world seemed to stop.   
It was…

[It was simple](https://eragem.com/wme14793.html).

A silver colored band, with a channel of crystals going nearly halfway around. Probably diamonds, given Steve’s tendency to not do things half-way.  
It was perfect.

It was gorgeous. And just discreet enough to not freak him out.

„I love it. It’s perfect.“  
„Yeah?“ God, those blue eyes were looking at him like he hung the moon.  
„Yeah. Thank you so much, Stevie.“

„You’re so welcome, Bucky.“

***

They spent the rest of their evening on the couch, looking at each other like dopes, necking occasionally but never gaining any heat.   
  
They were just soaking in the new reality they were creating, a perfect little world, just for themselves.

 


End file.
